Body Language
by piratestripes
Summary: Cassandra is burning up in this new body. Despite not letting her into his thoughts, she knows exactly what's going on. Spoilers for New Earth. DoctorRose


**Body Language**

by pirateystripes

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything DW. Thought that was pretty obvious. :P

**Spoilers for New Earth.**

The first thing Cassandra tries to do in this uncharted and strangely warm male body is to explore the furthest recesses of his mind. It's no easy task, however. The Doctor puts up walls and barriers before she can gather information, and suddenly there's nothing there but an empty room filled with locked doors.

She mentally kicks the doors, beats on them with what figuratively could be called fists. Nothing. Only the tinny echoes of her efforts swirl through the room. She shivers uncomfortably, despite feeling as if being boiled alive. From behind the doors she can hear the sounds of memories old and new. His memories. Judging by the amount of doors, there's hundreds of years' worth of memories. Obviously she's not the only one who's had work done.

Curiosity gets the better of her, and when she presses her ear against one of the doors, she can hear laughter so joyful that she finds herself chuckling along as well. Behind the next door, someone paces to and fro, back and forth, but when she asks if anybody's there, the pacing stops and then there's silence. At another door, she hears sobbing, heart-wrenching cries and screams. She runs from door to door, trying the knobs and handles, banging futilely on both wood and steel, but from her, all is locked and barred.

Sighing in frustration, she leans against a blue wooden door, and begins to slide down to the floor. She jumps when the door creaks slowly open, and quickly stumbles to her feet, cautiously peering into the darkness. She only manages a few steps when the room is suddenly flooded with blinding white light, and she feels control flood into "her" fingertips. She's done it. She's _him_.

Before her stands the curvy, blonde girl: Rose Tyler. She's seeing her through the Doctor's eyes, and finds herself grudgingly admitting that in the light of this particular room, she looks absolutely breathtaking. The twin hearts in her chest flutter and redouble their efforts at the sight, and she can only burn and ache and, oh ye Gods, _throb_ in powerless frustration. The Doctor had successfully hid his mind from her, but oh, the body never lies.

She feels her new mouth curve upwards into a flirty grin, and watches with satisfaction as Rose's cheeks flush with color. It's horrible of her to tease the girl; after all, she knows exactly how she feels about the Doctor. Or had it been the _other_ Doctor? This multiple Doctor business was becoming rather confusing. But never mind that now. She can't help but slink up to the quivering blonde and wave this new, tempting form before her. How she wants it. How she craves this attention from him. She _has_ been looking, and definitely finds the change agreeable. But she's so completely clueless, this Rose Tyler. Can she not see the effect she has on this "man"? Perhaps those old Earth sayings about blondes were true after all.

She inches toward Rose, almost catlike in nature, tormenting her by spilling the proverbial beans. "You've been looking. You _like_ it." Oh, and she knows it. How can she deny it? They had only just recently shared the same brain, and it was all there. She feels her hearts leap as Rose swallows nervously, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips. The body now in her possession suddenly feels hot and uncomfortable, and the hearts thud faster, painfully drumming against her chest. And what's this? Are my palms sweating? This one has it bad. _Really bad_.

She inhales deeply, smelling apples and shampoo and something else that she can't put his finger on, but it makes her feel deliriously excited for some reason. She can't understand how this Doctor can stand being confined in his own skin. It's all too masculine and foreign for her, and she longs to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Preferably in a female-somewhere-else. This sweet torture is all too much for her to take.

Before she can have any more fun with this interesting turn of events, reality checks in. She does the intergalactic Electric Slide between Rose and the Doctor's bodies, and suddenly she's captive in Chip's pale, tattooed body. He's dying, and now they're dying together. Well, that's karma for you. And karma just happens to be a real bitch.

Fortunately for her, the Doctor has some mercy left in his hearts, and takes her for one final adventure before death decides to strip her of the sad, sorry little life she's been living for far too long. The sight of her former self from across the room is enough to leave her breathless. She stares in silent abandon at her own curled golden hair, the soft curves of her body that fill out the shimmering purple dress to perfection, and her own tanned, smooth skin. It's then that she realizes that the old Earth saying about blondes really is true. Blondes _are_ clueless.

The slow beat of Chip's heart quickens and slows inside her chest, as if it's trying to win a race that it's only going to lose in the end. Her palms are sweating, her pulse is racing, and she feels hot and aching and.. oh, here we go again with the throbbing. For heaven's sake! All this time, she thought of Chip as nothing but a simple, mindless, devoted servant. And it's all here in his head; in the way his body responds. Oh, but the body never lies.

She relinquishes control of his body for a moment, and is shocked and humbled to hear his voice, his words. "You're beautiful."

The old Cassandra tries to brush the compliment off, as if she doesn't believe the meaning of the word anymore. She truly doesn't. No one ever says that to her without wanting something in return.

But now she won't ever forget the meaning.

Seconds pass, and she feels a peace of mind she hasn't felt in years as she lies dying in her own arms. No regrets for her, and no regrets for Chip. She only wishes she had told Rose about the Doctor and what she does to him – could do to him. It's minutes too late for that now, and even if blondes are clueless from time-to-time, they are also very clever and resourceful when it comes to men. A small smile forms on her lips, on his lips, and the room goes dark.

_"Did you really mean it, Chip?"_

Adoration swims in his eyes. _"Of course I did, Lady Cassandra."_

_"And you.. love me? Like the Doctor loves Rose?"_

_"You should know the answer to that,"_ he says quietly, smiling and gently touching his forehead. He offers her his arm.

She laughs, wondering why she never noticed the color of his eyes before. She hadn't noticed a lot of things. _"You have excellent taste, love. And you know what? So do I."_ She threads her arm through his, and doesn't want to ever let go.

They're both laughing as they walk toward the light in the distance. It's funny how things work out in the end. She's still laughing when the light finally penetrates her soul. Despite the blinding glare, she looks up at Chip one final time. Hell, this sure beats being a trampoline with too much lipstick.

End


End file.
